Take Me Away
by Gucciano
Summary: Katie Bell found comfort in being in love with Oliver Wood, until he left her for the woman of his dreams. In her emotional turmoil, Katie deteriorated, much to the humour of her former nemesis. But is his attitude towards her just superficial, or will be be the one to put her back together? New chapter on it's way :)
1. Without you

His warm body was wrapped around hers and his scent was a pleasure to wake up to. The comfort of him just being there made her feel like there was nothing that could harm her – she was safe here. He was still asleep. She watched him for a while, listening to his even breath, watching his mouth twitch into a smile, wondering what he was dreaming about.

He was a dream which she would sooner or later have to wake up from, and when she reached out to touch him, the dream became a reality as her hand sunk right through his angelic visage and struck the cold pillow, where he had once lain, and the sense of solitude hit her like the heaviness with which her heart once again started sinking.

There were tears, comforting like an old friend, reminding her to be thankful for being here, being alive. It was like life itself wouldn't understand – she didn't want it without him. When he left, her life fell into a monochromatic state. The nonchalance with which he walked away from her drew the color from her existence. She didn't want to think – he was all that she could think about; she didn't want to smile – he was her happiness. The reality that she refused to accept was that she didn't mean any of this to him.

She was just another body type, another hair color, and another face that one-day he would forget. She had no name, just "babe," "my girl," "wifey." She couldn't believe that these words bore so much sentiment to her, but to him just referred to another number in his phone book.

She hated that she couldn't regret him coming into her life. He had taught her how to _feel_, how to _be_, how to _love_. She just hated that she wasn't beautiful enough, or smart enough, or sexy enough to keep him. That's all she wanted to be: good enough for him. She _felt_ alive with _him_. She wanted to _be_ with _him_. She fell in _love_ with _him._ No one could be _him._ She wouldn't even try to replace him. Surely if she'd done enough to show him how much she cared, he'd still be here. But he wasn't, and she was a failure, and her punishment was to go another day without the deep music of his voice, the scent of his skin, the comfort of his arms.


	2. Break-up truffles

Chocolate.

The scientifically proven cure for a broken heart.

The ultimate consolation prize.

As she felt the hard block transform into molten sweetness in her mouth, she wondered how much chocolate it would take glue the splinters and shards of her broken heart back into place. How long would it be before her next trip to the candy shop? Her clothes were getting a bit tighter…

Wasn't this the reason he left? She wasn't skinny enough to be with him in the first place!

Feeling disgusted in herself, she spat the dark creamy mess into the sink and threw the rest of the bar away. She'd never eat again. She would become the skinniest, sexiest girl he'd ever laid eyes on, and then he'd fall head over heels in love with her.

"You look ill." He'd say to her months later, after running into her in Diagon Alley. His girlfriend – a raven-haired, porcelain skinned beauty with brilliant red lipstick and green eyes – silently agreed.

"I've just lost some weight, that's all, Oliver." She said, resting her hand on her hipbone to emphasize her figure. The girlfriend's green eyes showed nothing but pity.

"Some girls think that's attractive. In the industry it's called heroin-chic." She overheard the girlfriend whisper as they walked away.

Damn.

'What does he want me to be?' She thought with frustration, heading back to that darned candy shop. Some more chocolate. The level of hotness of that-dumb-fucking-asshole-model-girlfriend was off the charts, and a new wide gash had formed within her chest-cavity. It must have ripped all the way to her concave stomach, or perhaps that was a whole new wound caused by another villain named jealousy.

But what on earth was there to be jealous of?

That girl was wearing way too much make up for a day out, and she was a whole two dress sizes bigger than Katie. Her breasts literally leapt out of her black corset-top. Katie examined her own. Nada. Well, her mother always said men were visual creatures.

She entered the candy store and was immediately helped. "Poor thing." The shop-girl said, handing her various truffles to sample. Katie took a large bite out of one, so as to send the rising lump in her throat back down to it's fiery hell. She was not going to cry in this place.

"They've been bewitched," The shop girl quipped, noticing the somber atmosphere surrounding her customer. Katie swallowed.

"Good, I'd quite like to die."

The shop girl laughed and offered her another treat. "No, they're called break-up truffles. Chocolate naturally releases endorphins that bring temporary joy to the person who eats them. The spell I used increased the potency of the endorphins, so you're supposed to feel tons better after just one… but I think you might need much more than one."

This was some great marketing.

"I feel a bit happier," Katie lied, and bought a pack of break-up truffles anyway. She left the shop with the pink- and white- striped, gold trimmed package and made her way down the alley. In her mind, she imagined everyone staring at her as if she was some skeleton prancing down the street with a bag of desperation and a dark cloud hanging over her head. Another truffle made it's way into her mouth, and the first tear came rolling down her cheek. Now people were staring. It wasn't an uncommon sight for the usual suspects in the alley – a young girl walking out of the candy store with a package of sweets and smeared mascara. It was just that the pain radiated so far off this girl's visage that many started fearing that if they stood too close, they'd get caught in her emotional storm. She wanted to be alone, but she needed someone. She needed him – the way he used to be. She needed him to make her feel unbreakable again, and on the way home, she prayed that she'd walk by him again and he'd see the wreckage. She prayed that he'd be the one to fix it.

But she reached her door, sobbing uncontrollably, and no one had come to her aid. The truffles were gone. Had she eaten all of them? She couldn't remember. All she knew was that the shop-girl's chemistry was atrocious, and she felt sick. She lay down on her bed and hugged a pillow to her aching stomach.

_I want to die._


	3. The side-effects of success

_Was it going to be like this every day?_

Every morning on his way to the office, he'd stop by a little coffee shop in the alley and grab the paper. By reputation, he wasn't the smartest tool in the shed, but he was the boss, and he needed to stay on top of his company's performance in the stock market. If there was a dip in performance, he would be the partner who would rough up the employees to find out who was the cause. He was also the partner who eliminated the competitors. It was in his nature, after all.

_Espresso._

In his world, time meant money. Hard work meant great results. He was sharp, determined, and dedicated. Any free time was spent bettering himself. When he'd started working for his father, it was noted that during his years at Hogwarts, he was lazy and unenthusiastic. Those traits almost cost him the job. Could you believe that? His father almost never hired him! "Father," He'd say, choosing to take his father's sentiments with a pinch of salt. "This is business. Unfortunately, Hogwarts just teaches basic hocus-pocus. I believe my talents lie in more mentally stimulating activity."

Of course, he was lying. He knew nothing about numbers, and had poor people skills. In the boardroom, he'd go on to prove that he was neither eloquent, and his intellectual prowess could not save him from the scrutiny of his father. His father was nothing but disappointed in his imbecile of an heir. "You're not taking this seriously."

"I'm trying my hardest." Over the years, he'd had limited interaction with his father. The old man was always travelling or working, and he spent his adolescent years at boarding school.

"If that is truly the case, then you're bad for business." His father sneered. He wasn't used to being made to feel this small. He'd always seen himself as the alpha-male, and this new dynamic of being the small fish in a big pond was foreign to him. After this conversation, he'd return to his room, drive his large fist through the wall, and start crying. He felt dumb and useless, and it needed to change. In the years to come, he'd read, and he hated every second of it, but his vocabulary was improving and his expanding knowledge of trends and numbers saw him reaping great rewards, and soon enough he was made junior vice president, complete with the plush office right opposite his father's. He enjoyed the art of delegation and often dealt his least favorite employees with the most undesirable tasks. If something went pear-shaped in the boardroom, someone else was always to blame. He had worked himself into the alpha-male once again.

_I come first._

He was the last person to enter the coffee-shop, but was served first. It was the natural order of this place. He was their VIP, the young corporate hot shot who part-owned the company that owned their premises, and the entire block surrounding it. Anyone who didn't agree had two options – wait, or get lost. Simple. He got his coffee and had a seat at his reserved table right next to the window, where his hot breakfast and paper were delivered right to him. Today he wasn't feeling his best. His mind was tired and he needed to have those few minutes of just sitting and observing. He didn't want this table – he needed fresh air, and asked to move outside. Within seconds, he was in the environment where he was most at ease – outside. He watched the usual suspects pass by: the old peddlars, the young wizards buying school supplies, and the workers who had been here since he was a first-year. He saw Olivander and nodded in his direction. He had always treated the old man with contempt, but in the world of business, Olivander was highly respected. His wand-shop had maintained monopoly of the wand-making industry for centuries, and business was booming.

"Marcus Flint." The old man greeted, recalling the wand that he had sold to the young man when he was on his way to Hogwarts. Marcus nodded again, feeling the wand lying warm and heavy in his pocket, as if it too was greeting it's maker. The old man passed by and Marcus was left with his breakfast as another usual suspect made her way passed him.

Rake thin and wearing the baggiest clothes, she carried a haggard appearance and could have easily been mistaken for a peddler. Her hair was also thinning. His fork, which was on his way to his mouth, dropped with an audible _clank_ in his plate, spilling food into the napkin on his lap.

_Was that…?_

He turned around and looked at her bony back. "Everything okay?" The waitress asked, noticing his food in his lap and his hand covering his mouth.

"Were you at Hogwarts?" He asked, turning again to find the walking skeleton.

"Yes I was!" The waitress replied, following his line of sight.

"Do you remember Katie Bell?"

"Yes from the Quidditch team!"

He turned and pointed with a laugh rising in his throat as the waitress covered her own mouth. "Oh Lord…." She choked out a laugh too. "Oh my… what the hell happened to her?" They both turned and watched her turn the street. "I want to feed her. My God." Her manager called back in, and she quickly took Marcus's soiled napkin and left. She re-emerged briefly to bring him a new one, and then left him to finish his meal. Once he was done, he paid and made his way to the office, still thinking about the gaunt girl he had once competed with at high school.

_Was she that poor?_

_What was she doing with herself these days anyway?_

He didn't want to put a lot of thought into it at the office, but there was something about her appearance that sparked his curiosity. As an athlete, she had the build in every single way – she used to be tall and lean, with long muscle which had aided her speediness on the field and been the driving force behind powerful throw. He remembered the severe hatred he had for her back then, mainly due to the fact that she kept him on his toes. If he wanted that quaffle, he'd have to either work for it, or knock her off her broom, and back then he hated working.

By the afternoon, the curiosity was chomping away at his psyche, and he'd commissioned one of the tea girls to bring him past-copies of the paper. "Trend-seeking," He explained. He knew she dated Wood, and that he was something of a celebrity these days, but he'd lost touch with the sporting world since starting work. For one, he didn't particularly enjoy seeing old rivals and teammates enjoying the life he'd once wanted for himself, and his shift in focus to the world of commerce gave him enough reason to ignore them.

Now here he was, reading through gossip and entertainment columns, searching for ammunition. Was he going to confront her? Probably no, if such events were reported it wouldn't look to good on him, but should they ever cross paths and he'd hear the word "troll" escape from her lips, he'd need some new material. His juvenile fascination with conflict was reborn, and he was excited.

_OllyWood was spotted solo on the town…_

_Newly single after ditching his high school sweetheart known only as Katie…_

_New girlfriend, model/actress London Dream…_

It was all recent, say, within the last year. The rest was all waffle about him and this London Dream. Poor little Katie, she was obviously heartbroken. It was oh-so-delicious. _Known only as Katie._ Even while she was dating one of the Quidditch world's superstars, she was irrelevant. _Must hurt._

The business day closed and Marcus made his way back to his penthouse. Upon entering, he couldn't help but envy Oliver Wood. Since leaving Hogwarts, Marcus had been completely single. If he were to put it down to anything, it was lack of opportunity. He just couldn't attract the kind of girl he wanted, and all the women who tried to come into his life only seemed to be in it for his wealth. He wasn't the kind of man who chased love, and would much rather be alone than settle down with someone who would ultimately destroy him. His parents had tried to get him married upon his becoming JVP, but the girl had run away from home right after their first meeting. He didn't take it personally – he knew he was no looker.

But he was alone. Oliver Wood had two very different girlfriends in the last year.

_London Dream – the independent beauty._

_Katie Bell – the high school heart breaker._

His mind raced to places he'd never thought they'd ever go.

_He didn't like flashy girls because he knew the story to their success. They made friends in high places, like him. These friends would go on to skyrocket them to success, but he was no one's launch pad. He was the boss. No one could surpass him. Had he been Wood, he would have stuck to Bell. She seemed to have kept to herself. She never sold any kiss-and-tell stories. In the time they were together, his star kept rising. She was a great quidditch player herself, but she stayed home, ensuring that he had nothing but comfort to come home to. Could London Dream even make a bed? He didn't think so. Wood's expenses were probably hitting the roof with this girl._

_If he'd been dating Bell…_

What? No. That just wasn't right. These paths of his psyche were forbidden. He'd become a victim of mindless gossip, wishing to live a life that went against everything he stood for morally. He'd become tolerant of muggle-borns, but would never mix with one. As soon as he banished those thoughts, they found their way back into his mind.

That night, he entered his dreams as Wood, realizing that he'd made a gigantic mistake. He went to Katie's home, which he imagined was old-country style (she was a muggle, after all), and the emaciated girl leapt back into his arms, knocking him off balance. Upon catching sight of his forearms, he noticed them to be as they were now: large and sinewy, covered in a sheer blanket of black hair. He caught sight of his very expensive watch and his hands, which to this day were calloused. He hadn't given much thought to them before, but now he was embarrassed. Why did this girl want to be touched by him? His eyes met hers and his gaze dropped. She was back to her former glory: fuller-figured with healthy, shiny blonde locks and blue eyes that examined his face. "I love you." She said, and as her lips closed on his, he realized he was dreaming and woke with a start.

_No, you don't._


	4. London Dream

_Beautiful girl._

London Dream was successful. She had a lifestyle that other girls her age could only dream about: she travelled the world, was wanted by many, had closets full of designer clothes, and was paid to be seen in them. Her boyfriend was a superstar Quidditch player and he was so good to her, when she saw him.

His job meant he traveled and in the beginning, that was okay because her career meant the same for her. But London feared the day that work would become scarce. She was aware of the fact that her career might end even before her beauty faded, and for a celebrity, less press meant becoming irrelevant.

Her life in the spotlight started in the muggle world when she was ten years old. Her mother was a world-renowned supermodel and her father was an Italian billionaire who was closely associated with the Italian royal family. She never really got to see him, and spent most of her youth watching her mother being dolled up for fashion shoots. She always knew there was something extraordinary about her mother, and when she was accepted into Beauxbatons, her mother confessed that she was a Veela.

As London blossomed into a young woman, she started to understand the meaning of what she was. She had many boyfriends and all of them had a great deal of social clout. There were actors, designers and even young princes who had fallen over their feet for her. She started modeling at age fifteen and was immediately skyrocketed into success.

At seventeen, she was engaged. Her fiancé was a thirty-five year old photographer who had fallen in love with her behind the lens, and was patiently awaiting her eighteenth birthday so that they could exchange "I Do's." But her happiness was cut short when an intimate tape of the couple leaked in the muggle world, where their relationship was frowned upon. He never found work again, and she sought refuge in the wizarding world, where her scandal was unheard of. The people there knew nothing of the internet or videos. She would have a clean start.

When she met Oliver, he was in a relationship, but neither of them seemed to care. It was love at first sight. They kept their relationship private while he sorted out his domestic issues. According to him, he was unhappy and she was clingy and unstable. She went to drastic measures to keep him and often threatened suicide. _What a psychopath._

She pitied Katie Bell. She obviously had an extremely low self-esteem and needed some kind of psychological treatment. She spent many nights crumpling letters to this girl telling her to seek help, fearing that she might lose Oliver by being too intrusive. Her friends advised her to write anonymously, but she decided to leave it to Oliver. The girl was his girlfriend and surely she'd take some of his sentiments to heart.

After he finally ditched the bitch, they went public immediately. She was tired of waiting and hearing his promises. Now things would go her way, and he was more than happy to oblige. But there were stories: Katie Bell wasn't this suicidal freak. She was beautiful and blonde. She was a Quidditch player. They'd been in love since they were kids. They'd been dating since high school.

She didn't want to believe that the love of her life was a liar, but her trust was being chipped away at.

_He lied about her._

_He lied to me._

_He lied to her about me._

She confronted him and he confirmed everything. His ex girlfriend was not a crazy person, she just didn't know that he was seeing someone else. She was a homely girl who kept out of the spotlight to ensure that whenever he came home, he was comfortable. She was a brilliant cook. They only ever ate out when it was their anniversary, and even restaurant food fell short of her homemade meals. She loved him unconditionally, but he was in love with someone else and his heart wanted what it wanted.

She couldn't take what she was hearing and she left, temporarily moving to a small apartment in Diagon Alley. It sucked. She was so upset and the closets couldn't fit all her clothes. Furthermore, she never really paid attention in school so she couldn't perform charms so that the room would accommodate her. On the first night of her stay in her new apartment, he spent the night outside her door, telling her that he didn't care about anything but her. He said he'd give up everything for her – except Quidditch – but everything else.

It didn't take long for her to let him in, and the next morning, they went back to their home, but on the way, she had the utter displeasure of meeting the cause of her distress. In that moment, she almost wished she hadn't confronted Oliver about his lies, because if she'd seen the girl in this state, she would have bought everything he'd said.

She looked like an old beggar. Her clothes were ill-fitted and she was so skinny that her legs were as thin as London's arms. She grew ill just looking at this walking disaster, and wanted to leave, but Oliver was obviously concerned.

_Didn't he say he was going to give up everything for me?_

"She was a big part of my life. I don't like seeing her like that." He'd say, when London threw a tantrum upon their homecoming.

"Girls like her do things like that to get attention, and she's succeeded. You can't think of anything else, can you?" She was sick and upset, and nothing he said could comfort her.

_She was a big part of my life._

Oliver was left to his own thoughts in his kitchen. To be honest, he wasn't sure of what he wanted in life. He loved Quidditch first, second, and third, and anything else would just complement his hectic lifestyle. When he met London, he thought she was the answer. She was well-received, well-known, and drop dead gorgeous.

In the beginning of their relationship, he saw the good and the bad, and he decided that it was worth letting go of his wallflower girlfriend. Then, things got ugly. He learnt that she was half-Veela the hard way, when during their confrontation, she threw plates and precious porcelain vases at his head. She didn't transform, but her face grew redder and redder as she became more and more infuriated.

_It wasn't like this with Katie._

Of course it wasn't. London Dream was a phony. She used her looks and magical charm to lure him into her manic depressive world. She was constantly bored and really couldn't stand his company – she only did it for the press. Muggle-born players shared jokes about her in the locker room, but fell silent when they became aware of his presence.

They'd gotten engaged.

He did it to keep her entertained. She needed something to do – her career had temporarily cooled off and she was at home more often than she needed to be. Whenever he got back from practice, she was lounging at the pool or sleeping. The place was constantly a mess because she fired his staff as soon as they got there. By proposing to her, she'd have a wedding to plan and a chance to put on beautiful dressing gowns. He'd just keep using Quidditch as an excuse as to why he wasn't getting ready to skip down the aisle.

His grandmother had designed her ring.

It was a lie which London had sold to the press when she showed off her 15-carat diamond ring. His grandmother still believed that he was dating Katie, even though he'd introduced London to her three times now. She was old and forgetful, his embarrassed mother explained to the angry supermodel, who announced that she _wanted _to leave his parents' house that night. Before he put her out of her misery, his grandmother pulled him aside to tell him that he'd made a mistake.

In future meetings with his family, London refused to attend, stating plainly that they were disrespectful to her. She treated him like a villain every time he'd return from his parents' house.

Things were up and down for them all the time. When they were in the public eye, she was who he wanted her to be: this loving girlfriend who attended all his games and gave him all the support he needed. At home, she was cold and belittling, and did crazy things to get under his skin. They broke up and made up every single day. She was always the one to leave, and he'd always have to be the one to beg her to come back.

He couldn't be alone. Not in this enormous house.

But he couldn't go through this anymore.

He grabbed a piece of parchment and started writing.

_Dear Katie._


End file.
